This throwaway post is only being added to my blog due to the recent dearth of posts. The photo of the agate is absolutely horrible, my apologies. It was taken with my phone in poor light, and no amount of Lightroom surgery could save it. You see, I’m making an effort to backfill something or other so that in the years to come, as I look back to 2025, I can better understand why, in comparison to other years that were filled with various activities, sights, and observations, there were extended periods of nothingness.

Once again, I’d found myself out east in Duncan, Arizona, for a week of working on my novel. My focus has been so keen as not to allow distraction, aside from my crippling weakness that allows conversations to rule my life, at moments, for hours at a time. Other than that, and occasionally watching some stupid streaming short videos, I write with an intention that is admirable (to me), though that comes with no small neglect of everything else; just ask my wife. Fortunately, she’s familiar with these episodes of compulsive behavior/disorder I occasionally exhibit.

My reason for visiting the remote small town of Duncan is to refine my focus and minimize the chance for distraction, which mostly works until moments like this morning when I took the photo of the agate an Austrian professor showed me. He and a couple of traveling companions were scouring the desert and hills of the area, looking for more agates (this one had been purchased from a local rock shop). The guy is also an author of more than a few textbooks about agates and jasper, though geology is not what he teaches. Lucky me, they were in a hurry to get out again so I could return to my matter at hand, writing.

I’m setting this post’s date to January 31st, when I was in Duncan, to update readers of my writing activities, but today, as I’m writing this, it is March 8th. As I said above, this is a backfill. So, what can I tell you? I’m approaching three novels worth of material while believing I’m somewhere between a third and halfway done. Since it is a draft, I’m well aware I might end up paring much during the editing process, but the book currently stands at 707 pages and just under 280,000 words. It has a title, but I’m not ready to share that.

Regarding a completion date, since January 2024 through today, 272 of those 428 days have been spent writing this book, meaning, on average, I write a pittance of only 1029 words a day. If I’m correct about my estimation of its ultimate length, it will take approximately 359 more days of penning the draft before I can turn to editing. Writing this in black and white is a sobering thought, leaving me with questions about my mental health and wondering if I have the endurance to finish such a task.

There I was on December 12th, not doing a thing for Caroline’s birthday, when a text from Deborah arrived, asking if we’d be interested in a gratis stay at their fabulous Simpson Hotel in Duncan over Christmas while they’d be away traveling. While the tiny hotel wouldn’t have other guests during our stay, there were a bunch of cats that we were being invited to keep company. Who could resist?

But there was an issue, not an issue regarding Maliki the Cat performing a flying leap into a diorama, but by that date I’d been on the verge of finishing part one of the novel with which I’m threatening the world. That was not really an issue either: the problem truly raised its head when I actually finished said part of my book on the following Thursday, one day before our scheduled departure to Duncan. You see, I would have liked a break from the writing routine, which, at that point, was pressing into the 45th consecutive day of intense wordsmithing. On Friday, December 20th for those who are curious, we left for Duncan, the home of the Simpson Hotel and refuge where Maliki, among other felines, resides. And while I penned not a thing all day Friday, I couldn’t face spending a week in Duncan, where I typically find an incredible focus to go further with words, without at least attempting to keep the fire going; thus I had to give up the idea of taking an extended break from my self-imposed toil of keeping my nose to the grindstone.

When Saturday morning rolled around, I took up my traditional spot in the parlor, resigned to the idea I would write. The empty page was emblazoned with the words “Part Two” and nothing else. I could still see the riveting beginning of part one, which I’d love to tell you about, but that would obviously arrive with spoilers, so that’s a no-go. What I will share is that I had this idea that the beginning of part two should also arrive with a zinger of epic proportions. I sat there, stewing in a lukewarm pot of word soup, unable to assemble the overcooked alphabet noodles that would dissolve under my touch before I could string them into words. There was nothing left to do. I would have to tap the literary genius of the “invisible hand” to help me craft a book I’m certain she would not want credit for, well, at least not in this wonky draft state. Upon telling my wife approximately where I was at in the story, she made a suggestion that precisely fit the situation and gave me the push that allowed me to find the onramp to continuing down the story highway.

You could say that Caroline kissed the frog (or toad in this instance). There I was, a reborn man, and by Saturday evening, I was able to bring 300 words to the page, a solid enough beginning, and by Sunday morning, traction was well established. Over the subsequent days, I didn’t exactly flounder but was operating at marginal capacity, eking out barely 1,000 words a day.

This could have been considered a partial failure, but at least it wasn’t a wash, and sometimes we just have to take the minor wins where we can find them. Then, out of the blue, or might I say, through the flue, a Christmas gift arrived in a dream, not delivered by Santa Claus, but to him, if you consider the idea that I might resemble him to some small degree. I woke before 4:00 from a lucid dream, that inspired me to sit up, grab my phone, and write furiously for the next hour, before I lay back down to continue sleeping. In the morning I transcribed this 1,037-word note that absolutely energized me. It was Saturday again, the day of our return to Phoenix following a walk over to the Duncan High School and another hour of writing in the parlor where, my inspiration still fueled by my dream, I quickly wrote another few hundred words. As for the dream, it’ll be edited and modified for inclusion in the book, should I find a proper place for it. Over the next week, I set into a routine of consistently pushing out more than 3,000 words a day; such was the inspiration from a dream that shook me from slumber at 3:45 on a cold, dark, post-Christmas Day.

Yesterday was the completion of an epic 36-day adventure that had me embark on the longest drive of my life at a total of 11,040 miles (17,767 km) across Arizona, New Mexico, Colorado, Kansas, Nebraska, Missouri, Iowa, Illinois, Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, New York, Vermont, New Hampshire, Maine, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, Nova Scotia, Newfoundland, Massachusetts, Maryland, West Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee, Arkansas, and Oklahoma. Over the course of this vacation, I ended up sharing some 63,500 words and 849 photos, though I wouldn’t get caught up until October 21st when the last vacation post was written, and I started this recap.

The highlights and major points along the way were as follows: Caroline at the airport, endless fields of corn, Bocce Club pizza in Buffalo, surprise airshow, Caroline won a huipil, speedboat and boating on the St. Lawrence River, lighthouses, Fort Ticonderoga, Green Mountain Spinnery, lobster rolls, waterways, the seashore, cairns, ferries, friendly Canadians, sunsets, bridges, coffee, rain, roadside fruit and veggies, beachcombing, flying a kite, our pillows, Bay of Fundy, apples, Fritos, sunrise, moss, lichen, islands, fishing villages, trails, Balancing Rock, Kejimkujik National Park, old security guard, Lunenburg, Nova Scotia, Peggy’s Cove, Damson plums, beef jerky, Cape Breton Highlands National Park, beavers, fens (bogs), soft serve, maple walnut ice cream, waterfalls, rocks, thrombolites, yarn, Tablelands at Gros Morne National Park, caribou, partridgeberries, reflective ponds, the colors of fall, cod tongues and seal meat, causeways, Terra Nova National Park, forest walks, Muskoka chairs, ruffled grouse, butterflies, mushrooms, flowers, foxes, UNESCO Geosites, wild blueberries, fossils, Mistaken Point, oatcakes, Eastern Hyper-Oceanic Barrens, tiny cottages, covered bridges, narrow roads, signs for moose, and more lobster rolls.

After 58 days of traveling and writing, this block of my life dedicated to such an extraordinary experience moves into the past. I’m happy it does, as I’m a bit depleted trying to write anything else describing things encountered in America and Canada. I need a break from all things vacation, so much so that we are canceling a planned Thanksgiving tradition of traveling to Oregon. Now for something completely different.